You really do not know cold, unless you have spent a winter in Iowa. Vermont may have more snow, Nebraska more wind, and Montana lower temperatures, but until you have been pierced by an Iowa winter, you don't know cold. Her death-gray skies linger through the shortened day, and her mocking winds howl daring anyone to brave winter's sharp, biting teeth. Like a fighter staring down his opponent in the middle of the ring, winter glares through your window from the open plains, where she has taken hostage the unguarded land and all that it subsumes. There is no worst chill that you will experience than winter in Iowa.

And it is that prospect of shivering muscles and bones that keeps Juliana indoors during the calendar's harshest months. She is content to avoid the cold, opting instead to watch winter stare through the windows, while she sits by the crackling fireplace, her quilting needles nearby. The season cynically asks her to come out and "play," but she would prefer to sit quietly, wait it out, and work on her putting when the sun is more inviting. Juliana is a patient person during winter. It gives her time to think, to plan, to ponder all the questions she faces regarding the prospect of next year's disc golf season. She does not challenge the Iowa skies during winter. She just waits for them to pass, until the warmth and promise of spring tip-toe into the dominion she has known all her life.